Once apon a hallowen
by FuLySiCk
Summary: Its, crazy, random and weird, we'll u'll see.............
1. Default Chapter

It was a dark and stormy night at Hogwarts. The trees crowding the narrow gravel road swayed. Wind churned the fallen leaves and leaden clouds skidded across the black night sky. Thunder rumbled in the distance. At the end of the lane, lights flickered in the derelict house that the kids from town insisted was haunted. Lightning flashed. The air smelled of rain.

And blood.

The tall, golden-haired, shockingly handsome and gorgeously attired vampire lifted his head from his victim's throat and glanced up at the sky. He frowned, creasing his marble white forehead slightly, then nudged his pouting companion.

"We'd better get going. I just bought this suit. I don't want it to get ruined. It's so hard to get creases out of velvet once it gets wet."

"I told you to wear something more practical."

"But I look really good in it! I'd say fabulous, even."

The dark and petulant vampire sighed, gracefully rose from his seat on the hood of the convertible Volkswagon beetle, and fluffed out his cape. He eyed the passengers, a young teenage boy with his pants half open and a half-naked, big-breasted, bleached blonde, both lying drained and quite dead in the back seat.

"I'm tired of the all-you-can-eat moron buffet. Why do we keep coming here? We're vampire's for christ sake. We can eat anywhere we want."

"I told you why, Harry."

"I wanna go to Paris," Harry whined. "You promised. I want to learn new things, see new places. You just don't understand. I'm in despair, here. Nobody understands what a torment it is to be forever young, hauntingly handsome, and disgustingly wealthy."

The blonde vampire struck a pensive and quite hauntingly beautiful pose and then nodded. "I know. I do understand, Harry. It's all my fault. I feel so guilty. If it weren't for me you'd be old and poor and ugly. How can I ever forgive myself?"

As Harry merely brooded handsomely in response to the question, another shadowy figure appeared from the dark woods to the side of the lot where the Volkswagon was parked.

"Harry, who is that?" the devastatingly beautiful blonde vampire asked, indicated the shadowy figure with a flick of his lace- festooned wrist.

"I don't know. But he's mortal, I can smell the blood!" Harry answered, distracted for a moment from his glum state by the prospect of fresh food. He raised his seductive voice and called out to the newcomer. "Who goes there? Why don't you come closer, show us your pretty face?"

The figure did as was requested and moved out of the shadows so that it stood in the eerie orange pool of light of the only street lamp in the area. The blonde vampire and Harry both hissed and flinched in revulsion at the sight of the young boy. He was wearing a tattered black suit that was a good three sizes too small for his frame, with a cheap plastic cape tied around his throat. There was a set of false vampire teeth clattering about in his mouth, and his face, pock- marked by pimples, was painted bone white.

The boy faltered for a moment before spreading his arms out at his sides for dramatic effect and pronouncing in his best faux Transylvanian accent, "I vant to SUCK yore BLOOD!"

"Who the bloody hell do you think you are?" Harry asked, indignant. The blonde vampire merely chuckled silently.

"I am DRACO! Most powerful of the Dark Ones! Bringer of the Dark Gift!"

This seemed to finally upset the blonde vampire, who then floated majestically down from his perch atop the car and landed silently just a step away from the boy.

"YOU are Draco?" he asked, his low voice as smooth as the velvet suit he wore. The boy nodded, nervous sweat beading up on his oily forehead. "You, claim to be Draco, and you have the audacity to where such...such...TACKY clothing? I should cut your heart out with a spoon and throw it to the dogs, for surely I would not stoop to feast upon such a foul LIAR!" And with that, he shoved the boy over and onto the wet ground. The boy didn't even see the move, as the vampire's preternatural speed was too fast for human eyes to follow.

"You're Draco then?" the boy asked from his sprawled position on the ground.

"I am," the blonde vampire stated simply, fists on hips for dramatic effect.

"I was sent by my Master to deliver a message to you," he continued to speak out.

"Who is your Master?" Draco asked, amused now more than anything. Harry remained silently watching the proceedings from within the car, where he sat gnawing absent-mindledly upon one of the dead girls' ankles.

"The King."

Lightening shot across the sky, followed immediately by an awe- inspiring clap of thunder. Draco took a step backwards in shock, the ruffles of his shirt blown by the wind that had kicked up suddenly. Harry sat slack-jawed, the girls' ankle now dangling precariously from a lone canine.

"You lie! The King is dead! Or at least, I was led to believe that he had retired!" Draco insisted, after finally regaining his composure.

"Oh no, he's very much alive and well. He told me to find you and tell you that he would like very much to meet with your Master. He means to kill her, once and for all, to secure his place as the Supreme Master."

The very ground seemed to shake at the words. Draco's face would have turned red in anger, were it not more inclined to remain a flawless, ivory mask. He leaned in close to the boy on the ground and drew a finely filed nail across the boys' exposed throat.

"No one DEMANDS to see with Anne, do you hear me? NO ONE!"


	2. Zombys

Meanwhile, in another part of town, the creepy old house on the hill with the turrets and spires creaked and groaned as it settled, its age-old timbers moaning their protest. The wind howled and cried, sounding like a thousand souls screaming their torment, and rain lashed the battered old roof.

In one window, a solitary candle's light flickered, even though the house was deserted and had been since its occupants were horribly murdered decades before. It was the library window, and the delicate light cast dancing shadows across the rows of oak shelving and the dusty old tones, which they carried.

The aforementioned occupants hovered above their easy chairs.

"Serius, darling," the female figure quavered, "I'm sure I heard a noise from downstairs..."

"Dorothea, dearest - I'm not going down there again. This is the third time this millennia," groused the hairless and eyeless old ghost without looking up from his book.

"But darling, it could be burglars! Touching our precious things! Why, Serius - they may dash up here, biff you on the head and ravage me!"

Serius closed his book with a sigh. "Dear, how many times must we have this conversation?"

There was a 'thud' from outside, closely followed by a hammering at the door. Dorothea's jaw dropped in terror. Serius floated to her, picked it up off the floor and settled it back in place before continuing to the window.

In tones which spoke of the deepest dread, he said, "Oh God, no! Quick, put the light out! Pretend we're not here!"

"Darling?" shrieked the terrified wife, "What is it? Burglars? Murderers? Pirates???"

"No, it's that bloody Zombie from the cemetary down the road. Every Halloween, he has to turn up here... quick, duck down behind the door!"

The stairs creaked as footsteps progressed slowly until they stopped outside the library door. There was a moment of agonising silence, broken eventually by: "Coo-ee! Anybody home?" There was a banging at the door. "Oh now, come along Dowothea, Serius..."

The doorhandle turned with a rusty creak, and the door was pushed open. A battered head peeked around, a ragged smile on its lipless features. "Coo-ee, dawlings!" The being minced in, as best he could with one leg shorter than the other. "Hewe's Wandy!"

"What AWE you two up to?"

With resignation, the two ghosts floated above the settee. "Well, actually Randy, we were about to, to..." Dorothea looked to Serius in desperation.

"Do our hair?" he hazarded. The Zombie clapped his hands together, and giggled as fingernails flipped across the furniture. "Your haiw! How MARVY!!! I didn't want to say anything, but pigtails awe just so last century."

Serius realized the extent of his mistake and continued. "Well, we were doing her hair because we are going... out."

"Out?" Randy's eyes widened until one fell out. "Whewe?"

"Out?" squeaked Dorothea. "As in Out... side? But..."

Serius took advantage of the zombie's eye problem by batting it behind the fire grate to gain time. He desperately looked out the window, and found himself staring at a group of young girls gathered outside the abandoned house next door.

"Our neighbors holding a party," he lied

"A PAWTY! Oh goody goody goody! and I know just what I can wear."

"I'm sorry Randy, you know if it was up to us... but it's invitation only."

"But, I'm sure if you asked..."

"No, he's very... private. And how would it look if you couldn't even pronounce the host's name? You know, our neighbour? The Sorority Slaughterer?"

After a few futile attempts at pronunciation and the replacement of his tongue, Randy began to pout. "Well I am going to wait pwacticing wight here until you get back."

"Oh dear..." Dorothea towards the door leading OUTSIDE with many misgivings...


	3. Girl scouts

Down below, Sue Prescott of the New York Prescotts addressed the half dozen girls standing in the yard of the abandoned Victorian mansion. The chilly wind tore through their flimsy coats, and all waited impatiently to go inside for shelter, regardless of how forbidding the building appeared. "Sisters of Delta Pi Upsilon... As you all know, ten years ago tonight, the Sorority Slaughterer disappeared after killing his last 2 victims. So it's appropriate that we induct our six new members here in his house tonight. Initiates, Step forward."

The young college girls stepped forward. The spunky one, Mandy whispered fiercely to Melody, her shy best friend, "I can't believe you got me to go through this for you!"

Sue beckoned to an older girl waiting in the shadows of the crumbling wrap-around porch. As she stepped forward the lightning crashed, making all the girls, especially Melody, jump. The older girl was appropriately dressed for Hallowe'en, Mandy thought. White faced,

dead eyed, with two puncture marks visible on her neck.

"Sissy, do you have any words to share with these miserable underlings?" asked Sue.

Sissy spoke sonorously without blinking. "Yes. Tonight you shall leave this life and achieve a new plane of existence."

Melody burbled happily to Mandy. "A new plane of existence! I told you this was a good sorority. And you said it would be just car washes and dull dances!"

While the girls were ushered in, her assistant whispered to Sissy. "Are you sure this guy, Draco, will have everything ready for us inside?"

Blank faced, Sissy replied, "He is the master"

"Wow, you really have a thing for him, don't you?"

For the first time a hint of a smile drew itself on Sissy's face. "Yes, the Sorority."

Now late, Harry and his mentor hurried along the leaf-caked streets to their rendezvous. "So can we go to Paris AFTER the blood bath?"

Lifting and shaking his cape free of the damp again, Draco continued striding. Finally he slowed his pace and answered. " Didn't you hear what the little bastard said? We must prepare to defend out Master! She needs to be replenished. And this bloodbath is perfectly timed. It should be enough, correct?"

Harry took out a sheet of paper and pencil and checked his figures in the flicker of a streetlamp. "Let's see, eight girls at 8 pints a piece, allowing for some spillage, extra large clawfoot tub filled to the brim..."

Draco stopped suddenly. He turned his pale eyes to his companion. "Did you remember to bring the shampoo and towels? Anne likes the blood heated to precisely 92 degrees."

"Yes, yes, but I'm a little worried, do we really want to use girls from a sorority called Delta P U?"

"It's Delta Pi Epsilon! Anyway, I instructed their leader to have them all bathe and then shower afterwards. Then a light strawberry douche."

Harry drooled slightly. "What about the hosiery?"

Draco stopped, and turned slowly. "I have had it up to here with your tab at Serius's. I picked out some nice baby dolls that will be fine."

Harry lightly punched his shoulder. "Sounds perfect."

Draco stared at the offending hand. "When did I give you permission to touch me?"

Harry backed off with a whine.

They continued their noiseless approach until the old house was looming before them in the moonlight. Then as they turned to the rear entrance, Harry spoke again. "Hey, Draco? Why is this sorority like Hygrade Hotdogs?"

Draco ignored his adolescent jest and continued to hurry along. Undeterred, Harry answered himself as they slipped through the shattered remnants of a cellar door. "They're fresher because more people eat them. And more people eat them... because they're fresher."

His evil giggle trailed behind them.

While all that was going on a shadowy figure, who could only be seen once a streak of bright lightning lit up the sky, was slowly yet steadily moving down the road that led to lovers lane. As the mysterious figure came closer and closer to the parked car its outline became more

and more perceptible. The bright beams which the cars headlights threw out into the night caught the feminine body in an eerie halogen glow.

Hobbling along precariously on her crutches the bottle blonde managed not to fall on the uneven gravel lined driveway. Her delicate, slim, taped ankle, accessorized by the red 9 inch heel Prada, hovered several inches above the cold ground. Caroline made several more dangerously unstable steps towards the drivers side as the first drops of rain began to fall down, making the gravel slipperier to cope with.

As she leant against the frame she caught her first glance of the remains to the pre-slaughter party that the vamps had left behind. Even though her first instincts were to scream at an idiotically high pitch and run for the nearby hills, she didn't give in to it. Instead she just

turned around and lifted her gaze towards the cloud-filled sky, her mascara running because of the now steadily falling rain, screaming out her frustration to the sadistic God that had put her in this situation 'again'.

"Like I don't know. Didn't I just do this last week. For Versace's sake, I'm sick and tired of being the first to run in to brutally massacred corpses. My friggin name ain't Buffy you know. I'm not even a Cheerleader."

All this however went un-witnessed. Leaving the poor valley girl in the streaming rain, sinking lower and lower into the accumulating mud, created by the unrelenting downpour.

"Like I haven't been through enough yet, now my new Prada's are getting ruined."

"Prada, my eye! If those are real then I'm the Pope."

Caroline whirled around, her crutches falling away as she gaped in horror. Two very pale, very elegantly dressed men stood nearby, pursing their full and pouty lips at her as they huddled underneath a large, gaudy umbrella.

"Draco," hissed the dark-haired one. "You know A-N-N-E doesn't like it when we use religious references. She's never gotten over that whole Catholic thing."

Draco shrugged. "I was merely making a statement on the authenticity of the lady's footwear, Harry. Anne can't fault me for that. This girl obviously doesn't know fashion."

"We're still a couple of quarts low for the bloodbath. Can we just drain her and get on with it?" Harry whined, stamping his expensively shod foot.

"Okay fine," Draco agreed. "But no sipping. I don't care how much you say you hate manual labor or how thirsty it makes you. Do you have the bucket?"

Caroline, bridling at hearing her imminent demise become a statement of fact, nonchalantly leaned down and picked up her crutches. When she straightened, the two were by her side. As hard as she could manage, she whacked them both with her crutches and then tore off, hobbling at remarkable speeds, toward the dark and gloomy house that loomed over the lane.

She'd just reached the front step when...

To be continued...


End file.
